Is It OK For Your Dog To Be Bored?

Is It OK For Your Dog To Be Bored?

Yes.

And also no.

As normal its complicated. Whys it always complicated

I'm not suggesting dogs should spend their lives staring at four walls while we congratulate ourselves on teaching them independence.

Dogs have needs.

They need appropriate exercise, sleep, social interaction, opportunities to sniff and explore, play, training and the chance to behave like dogs.

A dog who spends every day with nothing to do, no interaction and no opportunity to express normal behaviour isn't experiencing some wonderful lesson in mindfulness.

They're probably just having a pretty rubbish time.

But I do think we've wandered slightly too far in the other direction.

Dog looks bored?

Quick.

Get the snuffle mat.

Dog sighs?

Lick mat.

Dog is lying down staring into space?

Perhaps some scent work.

Dog has been asleep for three hours?

Better wake them up and do some enrichment because apparently we're running a canine activity centre now.

And don't forget to film it for Facebook.

Because somewhere along the way we've started to treat boredom as though it is automatically a welfare problem.

I don't think it is.

I think learning to be bored is an important life skill for a dog.

Apparently, my dogs are running a toy shop

I should probably confess something at this point.

My wife has a problem.

Every time we go shopping, there is apparently an unwritten rule that the dogs need a new toy.

We have crates of them.

Crates.

Some of them still have the labels on.

I'm fairly sure I could open a small dog-toy shop at this point.

Possibly with a loyalty scheme.

How many toys does a dog actually need?

Because here's the thing.

Having twenty-seven enrichment toys available doesn't necessarily mean a dog is better enriched than one with three toys.

Sometimes we've just bought ourselves more things to trip over.

Harvey and the world's best toy

Harvey, my old boy, once found a stick on a walk.

Although, to be completely honest, calling it a stick feels like I'm massively underselling the situation.

This wasn't a little twig.

They'd been felling trees.

Harvey once dragged a ten-foot silver birch log five miles back to the car.

Ten feet.

At that point we're no longer talking about a stick.

We're talking about timber.

I'm fairly sure he was trying to start a landscaping business.

And yet, if I'd gone into a pet shop afterwards and spent £25 on the latest scientifically engineered enrichment toy, I'm not convinced Harvey would have looked at me and thought:

"Excellent. Finally, someone understands my needs."

He'd probably have picked up another bit of wood.

A quick word about sticks

Before anyone writes to tell me I've just endangered every dog in Britain by encouraging every dog owner to send their dog into the woods to find the biggest branch they can carry, a quick safety note.

Sticks and branches aren't risk-free.

They can splinter, cause injuries to the mouth or throat, become lodged, or cause other injuries if a dog runs or falls while carrying one. So although Harvey's ten-foot silver birch was clearly the highlight of his day, I'm not suggesting you deliberately hand your dog a tree and call it enrichment.

Know your dog, consider the environment and supervise what they're doing.

And if your dog is one of those enthusiastic branch collectors who believes every walk is actually a logging expedition, it may be worth finding safer alternatives for carrying and chewing.

The point of Harvey's story isn't "sticks are brilliant toys."

It's that dogs don't always need us to manufacture enrichment for them.

Sometimes they find something that genuinely interests them.

And sometimes, just as importantly, they decide they've had enough and go to sleep.

The value isn't necessarily in how much we spend.

It's in what the dog actually finds meaningful.

And sometimes what they find meaningful is... nothing.

Or a nap.

Or sitting next to you.

Or staring out of the window.

Or, apparently, dragging half a tree across a car park.

We don't have to fill every empty moment

I think that's worth remembering.

Enrichment is important.

But enrichment doesn't mean constant entertainment.

There is a difference between giving a dog appropriate opportunities to explore, play, sniff, investigate and use their brain...

...and feeling guilty every time they aren't doing something.

My dogs have enough toys.

Probably enough for several dogs.

a lot of them still have labels on them, which I think is probably the canine equivalent of having a gym membership you never use.

And yet they don't need me to activate the entertainment department every time they lie down.

Sometimes they play.

Sometimes they investigate something.

Sometimes they chew a toy.

Sometimes they look at me.

mostly they sleep.

That's okay.

In fact, I think being comfortable with the last one is just as important as the others.

The problem with the word "bored"

Part of the difficulty is that we use the word bored to describe an awful lot of things.

A dog who is genuinely under-stimulated may indeed be bored.

A dog who is frustrated may look bored.

A dog who has learned that pestering the owner produces attention may look bored.

A dog who hasn't learned how to settle may look bored.

A dog who is perfectly content may also look incredibly bored to a human who feels the need to be doing something every five minutes.

That's why I wouldn't automatically diagnose a dog's behaviour as boredom just because they're lying around doing nothing.

Sometimes they're just...

doing nothing.

And that's allowed.

In fact, I'd quite like more dogs to be comfortable with it.

Boredom isn't the same as rest

This is probably the most important distinction to make.

A dog lying on the sofa, asleep or quietly resting, isn't necessarily bored.

They may simply be resting because they need to rest.

Dogs sleep a lot. They also have periods where they're awake but doing very little.

That's normal.

In fact, being able to settle down and switch off is something we should actively value.

Rest is not a failure to provide enrichment.

Rest is a biological need.

Boredom is different.

Boredom is more about what happens when a dog wants or needs something to do but doesn't have an appropriate outlet.

Depending on the dog, that might show up as persistent attention-seeking, pacing, repetitive behaviour, inappropriate chewing or destruction, excessive barking, agitation or an inability to settle.

So I think there are actually three quite different states:

Rest:

"I'm comfortable. I'm tired. I'm going to lie down."

Healthy downtime:

"Nothing is happening right now. That's fine. I'll hang out here."

Boredom or frustration:

"I need something. Nothing is happening. I don't know what to do with myself."

Those aren't interchangeable.

And this is why I don't think the answer to a dog looking quiet is automatically to find something for them to do.

Sometimes the kindest thing you can give a dog is permission to rest.

Sometimes the thing they need is an appropriate activity.

And sometimes what they need most is to learn that they can experience a period of inactivity without becoming frustrated by it.

So what does genuine boredom actually look like?

Now we're getting to the slightly tricky bit.

Because a bored dog doesn't necessarily sit in the corner looking tragically out of the window while a sad piano plays in the background.

They don't come over and say:

"Excuse me. I've completed my morning sniffing. I believe I am now experiencing insufficient enrichment."

Wouldn't that make life easier?

Instead, boredom can look like a dog who simply can't seem to leave you alone.

They bring you a toy.

You throw it.

They bring it back.

You throw it again.

They bring it back.

You begin to question every decision that led you to this moment.

They bring it back.

At this point, you're not entirely sure whether you're enriching the dog or being held hostage by a Labrador.

Possible signs of boredom could include.

Repeatedly pestering you for attention.

Constantly getting up and wandering around without ever really settling.

Inventing jobs for themselves. Unfortunately, dogs are excellent at this. The jobs may include emptying the bin, redecorating the sofa, dismantling a cardboard box or seeing whether the kitchen roll can be spread throughout the entire downstairs area.

Excessive chewing, digging or shredding, particularly when this is a new or persistent behaviour.

Persistent barking or whining when there isn't an obvious reason for it.

Repeated, seemingly pointless behaviours, such as constantly chasing reflections, shadows or things outside the window.

Demanding activity immediately after an activity.

An inability to settle. They wander, pester, find something to do, abandon it, find something else and generally behave like a toddler who has been told there is nothing on television.

But—and this is important— none of those things automatically means boredom.

Dogs are inconveniently complicated.

A dog who is pacing might be bored.

They might also be anxious.

A dog who is barking might need more to do.

They might also have spotted a leaf moving in a suspicious manner.

A dog who is destroying things might be under-stimulated.

They might also be stressed, frustrated, experiencing separation-related problems, or simply have discovered that cushions contain a surprising amount of stuffing.

So don't diagnose boredom from one behaviour.

Look at the whole picture.

Has something changed.

Does this happen regularly?

Does the dog have appropriate opportunities for exercise, sniffing, exploration, play and interaction?

Can they settle afterwards?

And, perhaps most importantly, what happens when you meet those needs?

If your dog has a good walk, gets to sniff and explore, has some interaction and then happily collapses on the sofa and starts snoring like an outboard motor, that's probably not a dog crying out for another enrichment activity.

That's probably a dog who is knackered.

Let them sleep.

Don't wake them up because you've suddenly remembered you bought a lick mat.

Real life doesn't come with an enrichment timetable

This is the bit that I think gets forgotten.

Dogs don't live in a carefully controlled behavioural experiment.

They live with us. And humans are spectacularly inconsistent creatures.

Some days we go for a long walk.

Some days we don't.

Sometimes we have loads of time.

Sometimes we're working.

Sometimes the car breaks down.

Sometimes the washing machine decides that today is the day it will become a submarine.

Your dog doesn't get to live in a world where every day has been designed specifically around their optimal enrichment requirements.

And that's okay.

I think learning to cope with those changes is valuable.

The day I nearly broke my toe

I've got a fairly simple example of this.

Earlier this week I nearly broke my toe.

I was incredibly brave about it, obviously. I didn't swear, cry or make any dramatic noises.

I'm not going to turn this into some heroic tale of canine devotion where the dogs gathered around my injured foot, summoned an ambulance and took turns applying a cold compress.

They didn't.

I hurt my foot.

It hurt a lot.

Guess what?

The dogs didn't go for a walk.

We had a sofa day.

That's it.

No elaborate contingency plan.

No emergency enrichment committee meeting.

No frantic attempt to recreate our normal routine using seventeen different activities because I'd failed to provide the scheduled amount of stimulation.

We had a quiet day.

And, unsurprisingly, the dogs survived.

They slept.

They played.

They probably wondered why their idiot human was hobbling around.

And then they slept some more.

Because sometimes life happens.

And I think this is actually an important thing to teach dogs.

Your dog needs to cope when life isn't perfect

Imagine a dog whose entire existence revolves around constant activity.

Every time they're awake, something happens.

Walk.

Training.

Play.

Enrichment.

Food puzzle.

Interaction.

Another activity.

Another walk.

Another thing.

They may become very good at being active.

But have they learned to be inactive?

Can they settle when nothing is happening?

Can they cope when the usual routine changes?

Can they accept that sometimes the human isn't available?

Can they lie next to you while you watch television without demanding a programme of entertainment?

Can they cope with a missed walk?

Can they settle after a day where things haven't gone according to plan?

Those are useful skills.

Because sooner or later, something will happen.

Isn't boredom bad?

It can be.

This is where I don't want the message to become "boredom is brilliant and you should stop doing things with your dog."

That's just the opposite extreme.

A dog who is persistently under-stimulated, frustrated or unable to express normal behaviour can absolutely develop problems.

Destructive behaviour, excessive barking, repetitive behaviour, attention-seeking and other unwanted behaviours can sometimes be associated with unmet needs.

But that's exactly why we need to look at the whole dog rather than reaching for the word "bored" every time we see something we don't like.

If your dog is pacing around the house for hours, constantly pestering you, destroying furniture or unable to settle, I'd want to know why.

Maybe they need more appropriate exercise.

Maybe they need more opportunities to sniff and explore.

Maybe they're frustrated.

Maybe they're anxious.

Maybe they haven't learned how to settle.

Maybe something has changed.

Maybe there is a medical issue.

Maybe you've accidentally taught them that every time they bother you, something exciting happens.

Or maybe they really aren't getting enough appropriate outlets.

"Bored" might be part of the answer.

But it isn't automatically the answer.

There is a difference between stimulation and enrichment.

I think this distinction matters.

We can give a dog lots of things to do without necessarily helping them develop the ability to regulate themselves.

And enrichment isn't just puzzles and food toys.

A walk where a dog gets to sniff and explore can be enriching.

Learning something new can be enriching.

Playing appropriately can be enriching.

Having choice can be enriching.

Being able to investigate their environment can be enriching.

And, sometimes, rest is enriching too.

Sleep is obviously important.

But quiet periods where the dog doesn't have to constantly respond to something are useful as well.

We don't need to turn every quiet moment into a training opportunity.

Sometimes a dog lying on the floor doing absolutely nothing is exactly what we want.

We should probably stop being frightened of doing "nothing"

There seems to be a strange pressure on dog owners now.

If you're not walking your dog for three hours six times a day, doing scent work, feeding through enrichment toys, training tricks, attending classes, visiting the dog field and arranging canine social activities, are you really doing enough?

Possibly.

Possibly not.

It depends on your dog.

That's the annoying answer.

A young working-bred dog with enormous behavioural needs is obviously going to have different requirements from a twelve-year-old dog who is delighted to sleep next to the radiator.

A healthy adolescent dog is different from an elderly dog.

A confident dog is different from a fearful one.

A dog recovering from illness or injury is different from one preparing for a hiking holiday.

And a rescue dog with a complicated history may have completely different needs again.

There is no universal enrichment quota.

Your dog doesn't know that Instagram says they should have completed three enrichment activities before breakfast.

And this is where I think "calm" gets misunderstood

A dog being calm doesn't necessarily mean they're fulfilled.

But neither does a dog being busy mean they're fulfilled.

We can become so focused on making sure dogs have enough to do that we forget to ask whether they are actually comfortable doing nothing.

I want dogs to be able to experience both.

I want them to be able to go out and have a brilliant walk, sniff everything, explore, play and learn.

And then I want them to come home and switch off.

I want them to be able to have exciting days.

And boring days.

And normal days.

And slightly rubbish days.

Because that's what life is.

The sofa day was actually useful

Looking back, my nearly-broken-toe incident was a pretty good reminder of this.

The dogs didn't get the day they'd normally have.

They didn't get their usual activity

They didn't get everything I'd normally provide.

Instead, they got me on the sofa.

And they adapted.

That doesn't mean I would deliberately deprive them of exercise to teach them a lesson.

That would be ridiculous.

The point is that I didn't need to panic because one day wasn't perfect.

Their needs didn't suddenly disappear.

But neither did they become a behavioural disaster because their routine changed for 24 hours.

And that matters.

Because there will be more sofa days.

There will be illness.

There will be extream weather.

There will be stressful periods.

There will be family emergencies.

There will be days when work takes over.

There will be days when your dog doesn't get their normal walk.

There will be days when you are simply running on fumes.

A dog who can cope with that is easier to live with.

And, more importantly, they are better prepared for the unpredictable nature of life.

So, should you deliberately bore your dog?

No.

I'm not suggesting we create a programme called "Extreme Boredom Training: Day One — Stare At Wall."

Your dog still needs their needs met.

But I do think we should stop assuming that every moment of inactivity needs fixing.

Give them things to do.

Give them opportunities to explore.

Give them appropriate exercise.

Play with them.

Train them.

Let them sniff.

Let them investigate.

Let them have fun.

But also...

Let them be bored.

Let them discover that sometimes nothing happens.

Let them learn that the enrichment box didn't arrive and somehow society has continued functioning.

Let them learn that you can sit on the sofa without producing a Kong.

Let them learn that a missed walk is sometimes just a missed walk.

Let them learn that doing nothing can be perfectly safe.

Because one of the most useful things we can teach a dog isn't always another behaviour.

Sometimes it's teaching them that they don't have to do anything at all.

And if they spend twenty minutes staring out of the window before falling asleep?

That's okay.

They might not be bored.

They might just have discovered something humans seem to struggle with far more than dogs do:

There is absolutely nothing that needs doing right now.

Enjoy the sofa.